His Canary. That’s what he always called you. You were a singer from a dingy bar, unlucky enough to have caught his eye. “Mon Canari,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist.

..You rejected him when he asked to court you. A grave mistake. A large sum of money was all it took for the owner to give you up. To give you to him.

“As long as there is money, there is corruption.” Rook said, nuzzling your neck. “So sing for me. For my sake.”

..You were once graceful, all you wished for was to sing your music. That’s all you ever needed, anyway. Yet, you were robbed of your freedom. A canary you were, and one that was caged in this twisted enclosure of love.